


To Stay a Good Man

by Lupienne



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Historical, Cheesy, Corny, M/M, Negick, Old Western AU, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Smut, Smutty, regan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-05-14 06:27:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14764364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupienne/pseuds/Lupienne
Summary: The feared gun (and bat) slinger Negan is back in town. And the villain has got some last words fer Good ole Sheriff Rick Grimes. AU Regan.





	To Stay a Good Man

**Author's Note:**

> HEY YA’LL! This was a fic intended for Regan week last year but I didn’t finish it in time..stuff…thangs. The prompt I picked was ‘AU’. I chose an 'old western’ setting. It's not really supposed to be historically accurate. This is just smutty smut, I reckon!

The saloon doors were a-swingin’, the patrons inside cowerin’ in fear. There weren’t no bloodshed though, much to the surprise of bartender Eugene. Maybe the presence of the Good Lord and his servant Gabriel had made it so.

A dusty bootprint, size thirteen, were left on the saloon stoop. A horse galloped away, carrying its apocalyptic rider. Weren’t no bodies left behind, and the patrons gave thankful prayers, 'fore returnin’ to their drinks.

The feared villain, Negan, were back in town. Struttin’ about, giving a smile to his own wanted posters. To the Post Office he went, and the empty Sheriff’s office. Asking about, just for one thing: “Ya’ll haven’t seen good ole motherfuckin’ Sheriff Grimes, now have ya? I got some words for him.”

Folk had guns, yes, but no one dared fire a shot. Not even at Negan’s wide and formidable back.  No reward were worth risking it. He only had to tilt his head in your direction, and fear would quake to the bones. The shadow of the hat were across his eyes, but you could see the demon spark glintin’ out of the black.

Negan had the quickest draw, second only to Sheriff Rick Grimes. Most murderous dogs liked to show their prowess by killing quick as could be – a bullet direct between the eyes. Negan did that often enough. But what he really liked to do were to disarm, then traipse his way over to his injured victim. And thereupon came his feared status and reputation, for he carried with him a club all wrapped in fence-wire, rusty with men’s blood. And he would beat the life from the downed opponent, laughin'all the while.

He called the club 'Lucille’, 'Lucy-Loo’.  Whispered it were, that he had even married the weapon! Maybe it were true, for she had a gold band wrapping her handle. And he kissed and caressed her as a woman. It were certainly more attention than he gave the floozy women who often galloped by his side, their hiked-up dresses and garish makeup belying the vicious pistols strapped to their thighs.

So the stories go.

But it weren’t no tale that it were the drunk Nicholas who ratted out good Sheriff Grimes today. Negan’s shadow fell upon him and Nicholas looked up. He said it were like Lucifer were strokin’ his tongue and makin’ the words fall out. It weren’t no great mystery of where Sheriff Grimes might be when he weren’t in his office. He were at home with his family, 'course.

“Lord,” he hiccuped, “Don’t let this demon hurt me.”

“Shut the fuck up, and answer my goddamn question.” Negan’s fingers were around that golden band, and Lucille were dragged down the side of Nicholas’s cheek. Knockin’ his hat to the ground – now that is an insult to any western man!

Nicholas clutched at the hat in the dirt, blubberin’, “No need to…to end me, N-N-Negan. I’ll tell ya what you want – just promise to please spare an old drunk-”

“I don’t make fuckin’ promises to you or any other fuckin’ man.” Negan snarled, and his teeth were white as clouds. “You got one second or Lucille is gonna eat your innards for lunch.”

“He’s with the missus,” Nicholas cried. “He dun’ went to church this mornin’, then headed on home!” He aimed a finger towards the dusky hills in the south. “It ain’t but a few miles out that way.”

“Much obliged.” Negan picked up the hat and set it back on Nicholas’s head, and the drunk coughed at the dust that trickled down.

And again, the murderous dog left with no dead behind him. His missus Lucille were yowling at him like an angry cat, all hungry for blood. Maybe he were saving good Sheriff Grimes for her. The blood of the finest lawman for his best girl. Atop his paint horse he went, and galloped on yonder to the purple hills.

* * *

 

Rick Grimes were known as the 'Good Sheriff’ 'round these parts. He weren’t too sure about the good part, for he’d done deeds he thought might cast him down to the Pit. Every night he got to his knees and asked Christ to forgive his sins. He weren’t too sure if Christ were listenin’ or even as forgiving as the Good Book said, but he figured it didn’t hurt to try.

He were known as good, but he were also feared by those who did not abide the law. He were renowned for takin’ down villain after villain. Shooting 'em down like the rabid dogs they were, or takin’ them to the gallows. Years ago, he’d lost a paw to a maniacal one who called himself 'The Governor’. Rick had made it clear there were only one earthly authority round these parts – and he hung The Governor high.

His missin’ paw had not affected his quick draw in the least. If anything, he were quicker – and more feared – than ever. Blacksmith Earl had made him a formidable hook to replace that missin’ paw. It were the best can opener Rick had ever found and a mighty fine back-scratcher.

His missus, Lori-Ann, were plucking a chicken for dinner. She smiled at him with a feather stuck to her cheek. He squatted, pulling out weeds from their garden. Once, he’d made Deputies Michonne and Abe come pluck the entire patch as a punishment. They’d ended up drunk and laughing. Rick smiled at the memory, even though his back were aching.

“Rick. A rider is comin’.”

Rick stood. Dust were rising down the long road that led to his farmstead. A lone horse with a dark figure upon. It weren’t till it got closer that he growled a command. “Lori-Ann, get Carl to the house.”

She took up the babe’s basket that were lying close to her. Her pretty eyes were fear-filled.

“Go on, now.”

He’d dealt with the villain before, and he still breathed. It seemed the Good Lord cast an angel down each time to protect the Sheriff. Lori-Ann paused at the door as the rider swept into the yard. The club were strapped to the saddle. The paint horse settled as Negan drew at the reins.

“Lori-Ann, go now,” Rick said. His hand rested on his gun.

“Afternoon, ma'am.” Negan tilted his hat at her, his face lit in an easy grin. He were indeed one of the Pit if he could give looks like that. Such beauty were surely the Devil’s deceit! “I reckon you know who I am. No need to fear. I only want a word with the Good Sheriff, and I’ll return him in as fit a shape as I took him.”

“It’s alright,” Rick said. His gravely voice left no arguments. Lori-Ann nodded and went into the house, where she knelt on the wooden floor alongside their fussing baby. The Good Lord would surely protect Rick once again, but she began to pray, just in case His eyes were distracted elsewhere.

* * *

The two men rode away from the farmstead to a copse of trees on the rollin’ hills. Rick hoped Lori-Ann wouldn’t do anything foolish, like trying to follow with a rifle or riding to town to raise an alarm. He doubted it. Her faith in him were strong. She knew he’d come back to her.

_He_ knew he’d come back to her.

Negan were quiet as he tied his horse to a tree, and Rick did the same. Rick knew the silence were just a lull in the storm. Negan’s mouth were as quick as his draw.

They entered the copse, the trees closin’ in on all sides. Soft grass underfoot, protected from the harsher rays of the sun. Rick hissed and his hand went to his gun. “How dare you show up at my house. Scarin’ my wife.”

Negan shrugged. He’d left Lucille back on the horse. “I fuckin’ apologize for that, Sheriff, but I ain’t got time to traipse 'round searching for you. Reckon I made the town drunk soil himself too.”

“You were in town? Lookin’ for me?”

“Yeah.”

Rick groaned. “Ya’ll like to make a real mess of thangs.”

“You know what they fuckin’ say. I’m the Devil’s rider. Reckon I spread chaos and misery wherever I go.”

“Nail that lip shut.”

“You didn’t come out here with me just so I could stay quiet.” Negan grinned.

“I don’t know why I came out here with you.” Rick’s breathing were gettin’ mighty heavy, though. His clothes itched. What folk didn’t know – and it would be a scandal if they did – were that he and the villain went a ways back. Different times and different places. East instead of west. Leavin’ their deeds on the other shore of the Mississippi. Except Rick had traveled to the light and righteousness. Negan? Well he just kept doin’ what he did best. Bein’ a villain.

“Sure ya do.”

Rick scowled. He flipped the strap holding his gun. “Maybe I came out here to end you. Bring you in. Let ya hang for all your crimes.”

“Is that really what you want to do?” And Negan just sat down, calm as you can please, and crossed his long legs all injun-style. He held out his arms. “You slappin’ the manacles on me don’t sound too fuckin’ awful.”

Only Negan could make him feel foolish, standing there with his chest puffed out. Only Negan would get away with mocking the law like thus.

He strapped his gun again, then sat down as well. But his body were tense, as opposed to the easy slouch of the villain. “You must have a reason to ride on out here. So give it.”

Negan were silent for too many beats of the heart. Rick felt itchin’ under his hat now. His brow sweatin’ up. A trickle went down his temple.

“Go on and give it,” he said again, using his Sheriff’s voice. That only made Negan laugh. “I stay away too long and Lori-Ann will start to worry. She’ll think I strained my back buryin’ your corpse.”

“Heh.” Negan snorted. He set his hat in the brush beside him. Few saw him without that shadow upon his eyes. Rick felt his chest tighten. The gaze revealed were pup-brown and round, the hair of crow-feather strewn across his brow. Negan looked far too innocent for the likes of wanted posters. His features drawn by the artist of God rather than Lucifer.

“Well,” and the deep voice were soft too, not the merciless keen of a hungry wolf. “I reckon prospects are gonna be takin’ me far away from this land for a whiles.” He looked away.

Rick didn’t have much to say. The villain would be off creating misery elsewhere. Someone else’s problem. Probably someone else getting the honor of stringing him up. He didn’t have much to say, because his chest felt like ole Ness the cow were steppin’ on it.

“Well, then.” Negan seemed disappointed by his lack of words. He took his hat in hand, but didn’t put it on. Scrambling up to his feet. One thumb hooked into his belt-loop, all casual-like. But Rick saw it trembling. “Guess I’ll be off, then. Reckon I just… wanted to let ya know. Don’t know if I’ll make it back, with the world the way it is. And out where I’m goin’… my pretty face ain’t spread around yet. I could settle down with a woman, make a proper life.”

Rick chuckled as he stood. “I could never see that.”

Negan put on a face of contrition, but he couldn’t much hold it long. It dissolved in a knowing laugh. “Reckon you’re right. I’m too much of a rascal to settle down with one.”

Negan’s eyes lowered. Rick felt his face going hot and red. He could feel the weight of that gaze. Right on his trap – which felt dry and chapped. He licked upon the lip, and Negan shifted his stance.

“You brought me out here to say farewell, then?”

“Y-yeah.” The word stuck and Negan cleared his throat.

“You’re a sentimental sap.”

“That I am. Don’t let the word get out.”

Rick felt like wildfire were loose in his clothes. All sweaty and itchy now, and he were blushin’ like a strumpet with too much rouge on her cheeks. “'Aight. Well, git on then, before I change my mind about draggin’ you to the gallows.”

Negan came closer, like he were gonna pass by. The idea of dragging him anywhere were a laugh. Tall and built like a prize bull, he weren’t no helpless pup. Rick’s hands twitched to grab at him, nonetheless. He tried to think pure. Lori-Ann at home with the babe. The worn cover of his Bible on the nightstand. The feel of the wood floor on his knees-

“Ya’ll gonna send me off packing like that? That’s a cold fuckin’ goodbye, Grimes. However will I stay warm at night, thinking about that?”

Rick raised his eyes, swallowing heavy. Negan were looking down on him, and damn if he weren’t snared by the demon-light in the villain’s bourbon eyes. It were like being drunk, just diving in that gaze. He dropped his eyes, and that weren’t much better. Negan liked the razor, liked keeping his face clear and clean. His lips weren’t nestled in hair like Rick’s, but right there, lookin’ rosy and inviting.

“I always got to fire the first shot,” Negan grumbled, and mighty abruptly, he grabbed Rick round the waist with one hand, and took hold of his cheek with the other. Off went Rick’s hat – but he couldn’t be insulted right now. They were connecting lips. A whimperin’ moan rattled in his throat.

It were like they were both afflicted by heat stroke. Felt like the air were shimmering around them. Maybe they’d been caught in a mirage. But Rick never felt nothing so real as when he touched his fingers on the tortoiseshell buttons of Negan’s black shirt. Fumbling to work the clasps through. _What a fine bit of fabric,_ he thought idly. _Must have stolen it from someone._

The tall villain stooped to trail his mouth down Rick’s neck. He dug his teeth into Rick’s bandanna and attempted to pull it free. It pulled taut around his throat. He pushed Negan away, untyin’ it. “I can’t go back looking like a well-worked saloon girl.”

Negan’s eyes twinkled. “Right. No love marks. There ain’t no love between us anyway, right, Sheriff?”

“I reckon not.” He were starting to rethink this. His wife were waiting with their infant son. Perhaps thinking he were but a corpse! He ought to go back.

Negan finished unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall open. His chest were broad as a barrel. He were bigger than the last time they’d come together like this. How many years thus? Rick couldn’t recall – but he couldn’t recall much right now. What had he eaten for breakfast? No remembrance. A thick haze clouded his brain.

“Ya’ll fucking shy?” Negan gestured towards Rick’s torso. His shirt done up to the second button. He had round circles of sweat under each arm. He were burning alive.

“This ain’t right, Negan.”

“You weren’t ever worried about that before. 'Sides… you get down and pray to your Savior nightly, am I fucking right?” There were a mighty dark smirk hiding in those lips. “He’ll be sure to save ya when you go, regardless of what ya’ll do now. And he’ll put me right where I belong.”

Rick didn’t know if Negan were right about that. Most likely, he’d be dancing the flames right alongside Negan. His trembling hands began to unbutton. He slid the garment off. The air to his sweaty skin were scant relief.

“Mmmm.” Negan raised an appreciative eyebrow. “I haven’t lost my charm. Yer clothes melt right off with just a word from me.”

Rick curled his lip. Maybe Negan were touched with the Devil’s persuasion after all, and Rick couldn’t be blamed for going along with any of this. Still, that’s what all villains said – _the Devil forced me, I had no power of my own!_ Rick knew the stirrin’ in his trousers and the motions of his hands weren’t nothing but his own free will.

“And supposin’ my clothes remain as thus until you lose more of yers?”

Negan laughed. His black bangs falling over one eye like a horse’s forelock. He slicked them away. “I reckon that sounds like a challenge, Grimes.” Negan bent and stripped off both boots like it weren’t nothin.

Rick looked down at the bare toes, red and dirty from Negan’s boots. “I reckon yer feet don’t impress me much.”  
  
“Nah?” Negan grinned and took off his shirt entirely. That fine bit of fabric dropped on the ground. Rick caught his fleeing breath. The villain’s shoulders were broad, kissed and freckled from the sun’s caress.   
  
Rick doubted he could flush any redder. He felt the rare bit of insecurity. His body were lean as the wiry fox, supple as a willow switch. It felt woefully inadequate next to this beast.  
  
“Yer swoonin’ like a delicate little lady,” Negan chuckled. “Do I gotta catch you in my fuckin’ arms?”  
  
Rick coughed, then scowled hard. “Y'all need to keep sheddin’ them ill-gotten clothes.”

“I ought not to disobey the Sheriff’s orders. Don’t want to get into fuckin’ trouble, or have him slap them manacles on me. No, sir.”  

Negan thumbed open the button on his trousers. Rick’s mouth went dry, watching him slide the garment down. He weren’t wearing nothing underneath and his hardened member sprang free, pointing skyward with lust. He stepped out of them crumpled trousers, and Rick averted his eyes.

'Ya’ll ain’t shamed to be standing there, bare as a new babe?”

“Shamed? Our Great Creator made me in His perfect image. Should I be shamed of His divine work?”

Rick ground his teeth. He knew Negan were pokin’ fun at him. Such blasphemy. But maybe it weren’t. He moved his eyes slow, admiring the Lord’s craft. Negan truly were a work of art. Though he weren’t sure if God were the artist. But that didn’t matter right about now. His own member were throbbing, suffocated inside his trousers. Fit to burst. He were flashin’ back to days past, east of the Mississippi.

Back when he and Negan ran loose as feral dogs. Nights of summer, sweatin’ in each others arms, taking everything the other offered. They switched who gave and who took when the whim hit them. But either way, it felt so good there weren’t no way it were right. He swallowed hard, sweat and tears burning his eyes.

Days long past, for good reason. Days that should be left back there in the dust. He’d crossed the water to a new land and a new life.

“I ought to head home…” He cleared his scratchy throat. “This ain’t right, Negan.”

“Ya’ll said that before, yet you’re still fuckin’ standing there.”

Well, he’d change that right now. He walked forward. Negan stepped in front of him. His face weren’t nothing like a villain, but that of a bad dog beggin’ not to be kicked. “Ya’ll can go, Sheriff. I promised I wouldn’t do nothin’ harmful to ya. I’ll let ya’ll go.” Negan sighed. “But… ya might never fuckin’ see me again…and I might never see you, and honestly, that makes me real fuckin’ morose. Do I gotta drop to my fucking knees and beg for yer farewell?”

Rick set his face all stern-like. But Negan’s voice… it were deep and rough, the way it used to get when he were lusting. “Yeah, I reckon ya’ll do. Otherwise, I might think yer just foolin’ with me, Negan. Tryin’ to disrupt my day, like always. Maybe you _ought_ to be begging and _really_ convincin’ me not to just mosey on home.”

“Well, now. That’s a tall order…askin’ me to convince the great Sheriff Grimes of anythang.”

Rick’s eyes narrowed. He took another step forward. 'Course, he knew he looked foolish pretending to leave when his shirt were back there on the grass.

“Alright, alright.” Negan sighed heavy, but his eyes were black as ink. “I’ll oblige.”

Rick felt like there were a giant’s hand squeezing him, keeping him from breathin’. Seeing Negan fold down to his knees like a long-legged colt. Seeing Negan’s fingers make quick work of his trouser buttons and pushin’ them halfway down. Rick looked away. It made him burn in shame to see himself afflicted with such lust. The Eye of God were lookin’ down on him, and He were sorely disappointed.

_I’ll beg forgiveness…_

He let out a sound like a newborn kitten. A soft mewl, followed by a harsh shakin’ breath. Negan’s mouth were dark as his eyes, hot with arousal and sin. His fingers, calloused and rough, trailing up Rick’s most sensitive skin.

_…later._

Folks might say Negan’s position were the one of the supplicant, the meek and controlled. Rick felt just the opposite. Negan were the one with the power! Makin’ him weak with that silver tongue. Controllin’ his mind with fingers like puppet strings. Rick were the one submitting to _him._

Heaven were building in his innards and he moaned quiet, running his hands through the fine black hair.

“My, oh my.” Negan chuckled and leaned back on his haunches. Rick nearly cried. “I’ve got you shivering like a newborn calf. Ya’ll can’t be sowing yer seed so fucking soon.”

He stood, grinning as cheerily as you please. He rubbed a hand over Rick’s red cheek. Rick said nothing. Part o’ him wanted to gallop on home. He were a'feared of what were gonna happen next. A'feared because… he wanted it to happen.

“Don’t be such a yellow-belly, Rick. There’s nothin’ to fear from a mite bit of love, right?” Negan let out a big ole laugh. Rick didn’t find it so amusin’. Negan weren’t the sort who _loved._ 'Cept for his love of money, killin’, and fornicating.

Negan smirked. Rick could only imagine what a fool he looked. Standin’ there all rag-tag. Nude exceptin’ for the trousers bunched around his boots. Negan’s glance said different. Said he enjoyed what he saw.

“Such a coward ole Sheriff Grimes is,” he teased. “Such a yeller little snake. All of them that fear ya’ll don’t know yer just takin’ credit. Yer fine deputies doin’ _all_ the dirty work.”

Rick bristled. He knew Negan were just spouting the nonsense, like he were wont to do. He loved to poke the rattlin’ rattlesnake. One of these days, he’d be too slow jumping back, and the poison would git him, and lay him low.

Not this day, though. Negan moved forward and slung both arms around him. Rick shivered as he felt that rough hand trace down his spine. If he thought on it, he’d figure the other arm were to keep him from bolting. Rick were torn between doing just that – running for the hills… or staying here. Stayin’ as Negan’s hand reached his rear.

He moaned. The villain were teasin’ him, just with one finger. Teasin’ and circling and nudging that finger ever so lightly. The air were hot, yet he shivered and shook.

“Yeah…” Negan rasped. “Yer wanting this so bad. You remember how fucking good I made you feel?”

Rick felt like both legs were gonna plumb drop right out under him. He set his knees rigid.

Negan’s tongue traced down his neck. He must taste like dirt and sweat. The villain  hummed in his ear. “Come on now, Sheriff. Say goodbye to yer dear friend Negan, huh? Ya’ll can say anything you want about this passin’ time. Tell yer woman, Lila-ann-”

“Lori-” Rick started to croak, and Negan laid a finger over his lips.

“Shush up now, Sheriff. Don’t be sayin’ her name. I’m just sayin’… you tell yer woman anything you want…”

That finger teased. And Negan positioned his leg such that his thigh rubbed on Rick’s hard member. Rick groaned again. His brain were getting hazy, a dust-storm rollin’ in. He weren’t nothing but clay in the hand o’ God.

“…tell her I done ran away like a yellow coward. Tell her ya’ll put one between my eyes and laid me down in the loose dirt. Tell her my women came by and ya’ll had to flee 'cause they were getting mighty jealous of the eyes I were givin’ you.” He chuckled. “Hell, they would too. 'Specially Sherry-Lynn! Nearly as jealous as ole Lucy-Loo-”

Rick wished Negan would just nail that lip shut! The varmint yammered on more than a tomcat in heat! His mouth were in drought season, makin’ it painful to swallow. Damn this vile villain! _He remembered._ How good it used to feel. The more Negan teased, the more Rick just wanted him to push that finger in like thus. It would sting and burn and he might bleed from the ragged ends of Negan’s fingernails. But it would be a taste of that which he remembered.

He had to do somethin’! Impart some of this weakness onto the villain. He reached down, skimming his hand over hard stomach muscle and ebony hair and to that member, and he gripped. Just a'strokin’, strokin’ hard and fierce, letting his thumb rub under the swollen tip. Oh, Negan were as hard and hot as heated iron, and drippin’ like a leaky well pump.

The villain let out a surprised groan. It were a wicked delight to see his legs buckle, just a mite.

“Ya cluck more than an angry hen,” Rick hissed. “Ya’ll couldn’t button that mouth shut if yer life depended on it.”

“Does my life depend on it?” Negan sighed and pressed himself into Rick’s movin’ hand.

“It might.” Rick moved his hand faster and harder. Negan moaned again, his hips rutting into Rick’s fist, and then he stepped back.

“We gonna do this deed, Sheriff? You gonna let me plant my flag pole in your warm, willin’ ground?”

Rick twisted his lips. “I’m more apt to plant _you_ in the ground.”

Negan laughed. “That bein’ so… my last request is one last fuck 'fore I die.”

Rick were achin’. He felt like a geezer longin’ for the days of youth, 'fore his responsibilities, his child, his marriage, his working. But them were the things holdin’ him back, as well. He stood there, torn.

Negan crouched down and rustled through his dropped trousers. Rick kept a cautious eye on him. Negan drew out a glass vial, standing up with his ivories gleaming. “I even came well-prepared, Rick. I got this fuckin’ swell oil. My gals love it. It’s from Greek or somethin’, so it’ll make ya’ll feel exotic.”

“It’s _Greece_ , not Greek.” Rick scoffed, then laughed. “Ya’ll carry oil around in yer pocket?”

“Nope. I stashed it there this mornin’, hopin’ I’d get to use it on the local Sheriff.”

“Yer a mighty confident varmint, aren’t you?”

“Yep.”

A smile as wide as the ole dirty Mississippi spread across Rick’s face. He beckoned for the vial and Negan handed it over. He tilted it, lookin’ at the light green fluid. In Negan’s cramped letterin’ it read: 'Oil of Olive.’

“What ya’ll grinnin’ about, Sheriff?”

“I git it. Ya’ll are inadequate in arousin’ yer gals, so you use this. Clever.”

Negan’s mouth dropped. “I’ll fuckin’ have you know, Sheriff, my girls are drippin’ like filthy goddamn candles. Just at the thought of me droppin’ my trousers, I’m practically havin’ to jump on a raft to escape the floodwaters!”

Rick’s laughter made Negan’s cheeks go rouge. That made him laugh even more. To see Negan blushin’ like a shy farmgirl were a sight to behold.

His laughter faded when Negan stepped up and wrapped one thick arm around him, and gripped him with the other hand, and his hand were rough and yet heavenly warm. He didn’t stroke or nothin’, just held Rick’s member captive. “Let me show ya then, Slicky-Ricky. Show ya’ll why my gals stay by my side. Get you rememberin’ why ya came back to me, time and time again.”

“Alright, then. S-s-show me.” Damn that stutter in his voice. He shoved Negan back. Starin’ right in the villain’s eyes, as he uncapped the tiny corked vial with his teeth, and he tilted some of that oil right onto Negan’s engorged parts. Well, that certainly made that varmint quiver! Rick chuckled as he spread that oil all nice and slick, up and down, and Negan let out a rough, deep groan.

“Fuckkkk…” The varmint’s eyes were dark as coals, sparking with ember. “Give me an about face, Sheriff.” He put his hands on Rick’s hips, urging him to turn 'round. Rick resisted. This were his last stand! His last chance to run…!

…He turned about. His gaze on the trees in the copse. A bird flew away. He hoped it didn’t fly by and chirp his sins to Lori-Ann. He closed his eyes, trying to banish the thought of her. This were for the best. A man had to exorcise his demons sometimes, let 'em out to play so he could go back to bein’ pure.

The demon were touchin’ him now. He felt a finger spreadin’ the oil. He let out a whine as that finger pressed in.

“You’ve just been with womenfolk since me?” Negan rasped into his ear. “Because you’re tighter than a virgin nun.”

“I’m trying to leave my sinful life behind…”

“Heh. Behind.” Another finger pressed inside. Rick gasped from the shock of it. Maybe Negan were right. The Good Book said one sin were just as bad as another.

“Ya’ll can fall on yer knees later. Beg for forgiveness.”

The fingers thrust slowly, in and out, and Rick felt like desert frost meltin’ at morning’s light. He were nearly on his knees now.

“Sooner we get this done, the sooner I can do so,” he groaned. Negan chuckled against his ear. Rick felt burnin’ and empty when he withdrew those thick fingers. But they were quickly replaced by somethin’ else. Somethin’ hot and hard, all slippery from oil o’ olives.

“Shit, Rick! Ya’ll gotta loosen up. Swing that gate open a little wider for me, huh?”

“Shush up…” Rick groaned, but Negan were right. He were too tense. His legs were shakin’ so hard he could barely stand. He finally just went to the ground, and Negan went with him, laughing at him. And still pressin’ and teasin’ and finally that oil and that hardness had their way. Rick yielded to that thick member.

He let out a gasping cry as the tip came inside. Negan let out a sharp gasp too.

“Holy fuckin’ fuckity, Sheriff! You hidin’ a bear trap in there?”

“Shush up,” Rick growled again. It were about as useless as tellin’ the sun not to rise.

“Yer as tight as a Preacher’s daughter.” A dark chuckle. “Until I get done with her, I reckon.”

“Remind me why I haven’t hung you high yet….” His fingers dug into the dark earth. Negan were pressing in deeper, and Rick felt his passage stretching to accommodate.

“Cause if I were dead, y'all wouldn’t be in this position right now…and you love bein’ here, Slicky Rick, don’t ya?” He bucked his hips forward and Rick whimpered. “Ya love feelin’ my big ole stick beating ya into submission.”

“Ohhh… God…” Rick bit his lip. Shouldn’t be callin’ on the Lord, not when he were on all fours like a feral beast, with Negan buried inside to the hilt.

“Mmm…yeah! Ya love me splitting you in twain, don'tcha? My big-”

“Ya’ll aren’t that big.” Rick grit his teeth, and clenched 'round that 'big stick.’ Negan’s rambling were cut off in a choked moan.

“Aww..ahh…shit, Rick!”

“Ya’ll shut your fucking mouth!” Rick hissed.

Negan grunted, all offended-like. But finally that flappin’ lip were shut. Rick’s own lip were undone, letting out small sighs and whines. It were a strange burning pain inside him. His body were saying: _'I can’t take this.’_ But beyond that, he could feel that bit of Heaven hidin’. When Negan nudged into that special place, it were like all the good in the world flowed through him in a rush. He gasped and clawed the earth with hand and hook.

“Fuck yes,” Negan groaned and he moved faster. Rick imagined how they must look. Two sinful men, naked as babes, all tangled together. One would have to say a prayer just to look at them. Strange how somethin’ wrong felt so damn right. Felt like he were tastin’ the afterlife and how sweet it would be.

Rick didn’t want to praise Negan, no sir. He didn’t want to cry out and tell him how fuckin’ amazing it felt. He clenched his teeth, tryin’ to keep all that noise inside. But Negan heard those stifled moans, and he laughed breathlessly. His big frame leaned down. His chest to Rick’s back, his hands right alongside Rick’s in the soil. Rick felt a warm tongue trace his neck and up to his ear, and then his neck were peppered with kisses and licks.

“I missed the taste of you, Grimes. So… fuckin’… grimey.”

“Thought you were gonna keep that lip shut.”

“Ya’ll know I can’t ever be silenced. Can’t ever be brought down by the mighty law. 'Fact I tend to bring the law down to its knees.”

He gave a hard hard thrust that made Rick yell out. He wanted to get up and lay Negan low, or at least give him a good thrashin’. Maybe step on his hat. But then the varmint eased up and kept up that steady pace that were magic-makin’.

Sweat dripped. They both started gettin’ lost, not talking much. As they went on, all sorts of far-flung thoughts galloped through his brain. Crazy nonsense about upping and leaving it all behind. His life of a Sheriff, his long hours of policing and farming. He’d ride yonder with Negan, and the years would drop off him as he ran, as all the burdens fell away. They’d be a law unto their own, doin’ whatever they pleased.

_We could go south 'cross the border. Or go further west, all the way to the wide ocean._

All them crazy thoughts contained one thang: him and Negan. Together.

For a minute, tears were startin’ at the corners of his eyes. None of that could happen, and Negan were leavin’ fer good.

“Why ya’ll snifflin’ and sniveling for, Rick?”

“I ain’t!”

Negan chuckled. Rick didn’t much care. 'Cause the villain pulled back on his hips, and he set to ruttin’ him so sweet and good, that Rick lost all thought. He floated on that pleasure. It set him to writhing and pushin’ back into all Negan had to give.

“Aw shit, Rick…” It were but a whisper. Negan leaned way down to breathe in his ear again. He were so tall he could just fold himself over Rick’s whole frame like that. “I’ve found myself at the bottom of some good holes, but yours is the best.”

Rick hissed a breath through his teeth. What a vile mind! So sinful and filthy and – Negan gave a good hard thrustin’ – so damn _good._ “At least some honest words are fallin’ out of _yer_ filthy hole,” Rick growled. “I am the best.”

“Now that’s the uppity, arrogant Sheriff I know…” Rick could _hear_ the smile on Negan’s mug. “…and love.”

Rick tightened again. It were such a satisfaction to hear Negan gasp. Lookin’ back to watch the villain’s teeth clench. “Ya’ll button that lip. I’m doubtin’ that bad reputation of yers. You ain’t impressing me.”

“Well, now.” Teeth nipped at his ear and neck and shoulder. Rick shuddered, hopin’ they wouldn’t leave marks – wishin’ they would. He yelped as Negan dragged him upright like a rag dolly. He yelped. That hard length pulled out sudden. Then the villain were turnin’ and twistin’ him around. Rick found himself on his back.

Negan dragged Rick’s legs up o'er onto his hips, and he pushed his way back inside. Rick groaned. It were so strange and yet familiar to be lookin’ up, seeing Negan’s knife grin and his storm-clouded eyes, the wisps of his hair swayin’ with the motion of his thrusts. He locked his ankles 'round that broad back. It were like he were lockin’ Negan right there inside him, never lettin’ him go.

“Hey, pretty thang.” Negan chuckled. “Ya’ll comfortable down there?”

He had soft grass under him, soft…but itching. And under that, he felt the firm earth, and he were sweatin’ 'nuff that he knew he’d drink the well dry when he got back home. But he could reach up now, and wrap his arms around this beast o’ a man. He could tug that head down closer and tangle their lips together. Hear the grumble of thunder way back in Negan’s throat. Hear their breathin’ and grunts mixin’ together and flyin’ away on the breeze.

He weren’t comfortable, fo’ sure…. but… there weren’t no place he’d rather be. For eternity, even.

But…they were men. And men couldn’t much engage in fuckin’ for too long. Eternity were measured in minutes. The glimpse of Heaven seen for naught but an eyeblink.

“I ain’t aimin’ to be comfortable.” He kissed and nipped that flappin’ lip. When he let go, Negan’s eyes were starrier than a clear night’s sky. “I’m aimin’ for you to impress me, _boy._ So’s I don’t go home thinkin’ what a good fer nothin’ waste this all .”

“Always shootin’ for the heart,” Negan whispered. That mock sorrow didn’t hide the twinkle in his eyes. “Always-”

“-always running that accursed mouth!” Rick reached 'round and grabbed hold of Negan’s hindquarters, digging his nails in. “Runnin’ and runnin’ in place, never getting no work done!”

“Only one runnin’ a mouth is you, Rick.” Negan were movin’ slow, like Rick were gonna shatter. It were enough to drive Rick mad. “Don’t be fibbin’! You’re gonna miss it. My runnin’ mouth.”

The big hands drew up his chest and settled around Rick’s neck. Movin’ them hips vigorously, rockin’ Rick’s body 'cross the ground. He might have grass stains all o'er his back.  

“You’re gonna miss my filthy sinner hands, huh?” The grip tightened and Rick gasped.

Negan set those hands on either side of Rick’s head. The thrusts came harder and harder. Rick couldn’t help it – he tossed his head and he moaned loud and shameless. His ankles still locked 'round the villain and holdin’ on for dear life.

“Yer gonna miss this. Me fuckin’ you till you can’t even recollect yer own name.”

He were Rick…but who were Rick? Just some body bein’ rutted into the ground. Just some mindless tart whimperin’ and whinin’ loud, clawing up a broad back, impaled and lovin’ every minute of it. His hard member being rubbed between their bodies. Throbbing and red, feeling like a stick of dynamite about to blow.

“I’m gonna miss you, Rick…” Negan squeezed his eyes shut, his teeth clenchin’. Rick dug his fingernails in hard. Hard enough to bleed him. “Fuck…!”

“I…” Rick arched his back. He burned and ached and it felt so good he thought he’d die from it. Bleedin’ that big bastard even more, just to shake off some of the intensity. “…ain’t gonna miss you.”

“Come…” Negan gripped Rick’s hip, tetherin’ him in place. He were movin’ hard against his Sherriff, colliding into him rough and deep. The villain finally silenced, if only by his own panting and groaning. But no…he still managed to speak. “…come with me.”

Rick didn’t bother to answer. It were nonsense and whimsy. Things Negan were famous for – his rattlin’ and prattlin’ and going on about things that just _weren’t real._ Rick knew better. He were tied to the earth, while Negan skimmed o'er the land with his head in the clouds. But fer just this little while, Rick gripped onto him, and stared into those vibrant brown eyes and floated right along with him.

“…Rick…” Negan pressed his mouth to Rick’s shoulder. “…I…ain’t…” He panted. “…can’t last much longer.”

“Ya’ll better not lay down an’ die on me, you dumb varmint.” Rick gave a yank to that silky black hair. He were close to burstin’ himself, but there were no way Negan were gonna be satisfied and he weren’t!

He needed to hustle thangs along. He reached 'tween their bodies, tugging at his hard member. He weren’t going to stay in Heaven long. He had to come back to the ground. He squeezed his eyes closed, listenin’ to the slaps of Negan’s flesh on his, feeling that thick and hot length deep inside.

“…Uhnnn… Rick….” Negan were getting clumsy now, his thrusts getting faster. He gripped Rick’s thighs and tugged the smaller man back n’ forth, tryin’ to burrow right through. “Motherfucking _fuck!_ ”

His name, falling lusty from Negan’s lips… oh… that were heavenly too. Rick knew he’d hear it in his memories 'till the end of his days. He’d never forget that trembling rasp of it, the way Negan’s voice vibrated through him like an earthquake. It were like all the exhilarations in his life rolled into one and it were risin’, risin’ deep inside his gut. Filling him and wanting out. Lighter than air and carryin’ him up with it.

“Yeah…call my name, Rick!” His teeth grazed Rick’s neck, but he didn’t bite – he respected Rick fer once. Rick wanted to feel the bite, the suck of Negan’s lips leavin’ a mark – but he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He could mark Negan though, and he did. He set his teeth on that man’s throat, and he sucked n’ nipped and tasted sweat n’ dust and _Negan._

“Fuck…Rick…!”

Rick smirked. Negan were the one calling _his_ name like some lovesick tart. But just to rile 'im up more, Rick moaned too and whispered… “Negan…”

“Shit…” Negan whimpered like a pup at that. Hearin’ his name slippin’ from Rick’s mouth! Rick chuckled to see the varmint so sentimental. And then he tilted his head back and his vision got blurred and he gripped onto them powerful hindquarters for dear life. Digging his nails in and marking Negan’s backside just like he were brandin’ a bull. Negan hissed and groaned at the pain mixed with luscious pleasure. Oh, but Rick loved it, and he dug them nails in deeper for the blood, and he bit clear marks up and down Negan’s neck. He’d be wearin’ his bandanna for days after this.

“Best not to let them women of yers see that…” Rick were barely able to speak. “Or that Lucy-Loo. They be mighty jealous.”

“They…they should be…” Negan had conviction in them dark feral eyes. Like he were givin’ his last stand. Rick knew their time were nearin’ the end. He gripped that wild bronco as the thrusts came harder n’ harder. Negan’s breath harsh enough to tear the very air, his hands grippin’ hard enough to bruise.

Rick held on as he were just _taken over._ As he went breakneck over hills and valleys. As death flashed all black and red before his eyes. He tried to stop that varmint’s name from comin’ out his lips, but there he were, moaning it anyway. At least Negan were too breathless to laugh.  

And then… he were crestin’ the biggest hill. He were sailing straight into the blood-red sunset. Stars were out too, dazzlin’ his eyes. His body floated, then dropped to earth and the impact were so divine. Explodin’ into a million pieces. He let out a hoarse, harsh cry, his hips flexing upwards and the Mississippi pourin’ out of him. He clutched Negan like a raft in the flood he’d created. Crying out and crying out until the world came back to him, but all hazy and soft and blurred on the edge.

“Fuck yes, Rick… fuck yes!”  Negan’s teeth grit and his brow furrowed like he were gonna weep. His head tossed back and he violently slammed his hips forward and then remained there, still and quiverin’ like a banjo string at the end of a song. A moan all long and drawn like a steam-train’s whistle. And more floodwater a'splashin’!

The villain’s big body came down and just lay atop him, making Rick’s breath mighty hard to regain. After a moment, he pushed on that chest and Negan rolled off, collapsing on his back next to him. They both laid there, sweatin’ like pigs, naked and momentarily unabashed, like they were livin’ back in the garden of Eden. Rick stared up at the blue jewel of the sky, watched the clouds gusting across.

“Goddamn, Rick. Can’t say I’ve had such good lovin’ as that in a long, long time.” Negan chuckled, soundin’ all winded. “One round with yer ass is worth ten rounds with the typical floozy.”

Rick rolled his eyes and didn’t answer such nonsense. He lay there, just breathin’. Negan did likewise, until Rick could feel the varmint’s eyes on him. Outside the copse of trees, he heard one of their horses whiny. Their horses, that they’d ridden from his house where his wife still waited with his babe, still waitin’ for him to return.

He drew in a breath and his eyes prickled again. They were part of his heart, but part of his heart were just layin’ here too, as free as a man could be.

“Ya’ll gonna miss me?”

“Shush up.”

Negan stood and stretched. One hand ran through his hair. He set about puttin’ himself back together. He looked just as good clothed as he did skyclad, so fine that Rick’s heart ached.

He were aware – again, like Adam of Eden – of his own bare skin. He searched for his garb. His head were still somewhere far off. Thinkin’ of it – of runnin’ off with this bandit. Being an unfettered soul.

He began to dress. With each piece of clothing put right, the thoughts seemed less and less tangible. Then Negan spoke and put him firmly back on the ground.

“Ya’ll considerin’ it? Of coming with me?” Negan’s eyes shone hopefully.

They were thoughts of fancy. The difference between he and Negan. Negan were a _child._ Rick were a man, and being a proper man weren’t always doing what felt good, but doing what were right.

And doing right meant stayin’ here. He had a wife. He had a son to raise. A law to uphold.

“Ya’ll know I can’t.”

Negan’s face fell, but he smiled right quick. He bent to get his hat. Plopping it on, shadowing those brown pup eyes, making 'em sinister and glinting again. “Yeah. I know. Guess I were just livin’ in a dream for a minute there.”

“Reckon I were too.” Rick cleared his throat gruffly and brushed by the larger man. He headed towards their horses, with Negan a'followin’. Once close, he drew his gun and turned, aimin’ at the villain’s heart.

Negan put his hands up. “Gonna put me in the dirt? Gotta say, Grimes…yer the only man I’d allow to do so.”

Rick swung the gun skyward and fired into the distant clouds. The crack were loud, making the horses jump and snort. “You know I ain’t. But I can’t promise what might happen to ya’ll if you come round these parts again. So you…” His voice cracked. “ya’ll….ought to be ridin’ out now. Git on yer way, varmint.”

“God damn, man. A threat from you is akin to a sweet lady suckin’ on your nether bits. Almost makes me want to drop right back down in that dirt again.”

Rick sighed and didn’t bother to tell Negan to shut his damn trap. That weren’t ever gonna happen. “I mean it, Negan.”

“Ya’ll don’t mean shit…” The big man sighed too, and rubbed the nose of his paint horse, calmin’ the jumpy beast.  “What you gonna tell yer lady?”

“That ain’t your concern. Reckon it won’t favor you.”

Negan grinned. “Reckon she won’t believe a word outta yer lying mouth.”

That set Rick’s heart achin’ again. Two horses, strong and rested, were before him. Waitin’ to gallop off to who-knows-where. But he could only travel back to one place. There were only one _right_ path for him.  “Git on yer way.”

“Yeah…” Negan hesitated and then stepped near. His mouth real close to Rick’s ear as he leaned down. His breath warm and smellin’ of cloves. “Ya’ll clench them fine buttocks real tight…and you’ll be able to keep a bit of me with ya a while longer.”

  
Heat flushed all o'er his face. Rick growled and jammed the barrel of his pistol into Negan’s chest. It were good, to be feeling disgust! It made it easier to let go and harden his weepin’ heart. “Git on out. 'Fore I change my mind.”

Negan laughed, and that alone made Rick reconsider, just fleeting-like. The way his eyes crinkled into a squint and his mouth spread so wide, them teeth whiter than the finest piano ivory.

“I’ll git. Fer yer sake. I can see yer resistance crumblin’ b'fore my eyes.”

“Wrong – as always, Negan.” Rick rolled his eyes. He’d crawl to Hell b'fore admitting the rascal were right. “With all that prattlin’ yall did around town, I wouldn’t be surprised if my deputies came out to find me.”

“Oh dear. An’ the finest deputies they are. I guess I’d really best be on my way.” Still grinnin’, still so handsome and fine. Negan started to back away, then he came forward sudden and caught Rick’s mouth with his own. Just a quick slop of a kiss and a hard nip to Rick’s lower lip.

And then he swung up on his paint horse, glancin’ back to assure Lucy-loo were still secure to his pack bag. She were. He gave Rick a nod and a mock salute.

And then… he were gallopin’ away. Rick stood, feeling the weight of the sky draggin’ him down. Feeling somethin’ burning at his eyes. He rubbed a hand rough across his cheeks and forehead, takin’ away sweat…and…

_Git on home._

He rode slow. His mind hazed, blissful an’ morose like bein’ drunk on the best brew. Whatever story he came up with, Lori would accept it. She’d accept it and thank God for bringin’ her man home safe.

_I laid him low. I ran him off._

It didn’t matter. She’d accept it, but deep down in those gray eyes…she’d know. She knew there were somethin’ more. Somethin’ reaching back into the past before she’d became the Sheriff’s wife – some reason why Rick never killed the varmint when he’d had all the chances – some reason why Rick’s eyes shone like a ghost when he heard Negan’s name.

She’d know, but she’d keep it silent within herself, and they would live out their wedded lives till death parted them. Because her husband were a good man.

And sometimes to stay good, a man had to let his demons out. He had to feed 'em, pacify 'em, get 'em drunk and happy… and then he could lock them up again. He could stay good.

And that were that.

Rick crested the hill and headed on home.


End file.
